To His Coy Mistress
by jeslyn-nighthawk
Summary: Miroku/Sango one-shot in response to a challenge. My first fic. Rated just to be safe. Please r&r. Thank you.


**To His Coy Mistress**

By

Jeslyn Nighthawk

A/N: Fic is in response to Gracie Rin's  challenge

Disclaimer: I do not own either Inu-Yasha or the poem "To His Coy Mistress." They belong to Rumiko Takahashi and Andrew Marvell respectively. I would like to borrow Fluffy for an extended Q&A session though. Do you think he'd be willing?

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_Had we but world enough and time, _

_This coyness, lady, were no crime. _

            It was always there between them, the attraction, and… their lack of time. He was cursed. If the did not get their victory soon, he would die. The prognosis was that he likely had less than a year if he were to continue to use the Kazaana. And she, well… they all kenw that if she were to lose hope of being reunited with Kohaku it was unlikely there was anything that anyone could do to prevent her from following. 

_We would sit down and think which way_

_To walk, and pass our long love's day. _

_Thou by the Indian Gange's side_

_Should'st rubies find; I by the tide_

_Of Humber would complain. I would _

_Love you ten years before the Flood, _

_And you should, if you please, refuse_

_Till the conversion of the Jews. _

            The played the same game every day. They would try to ignore this thing that was between them. If his hands should wander, which they invariably did, she would pound him and pretend she was not flattered that he paid attention to her. He was at this point well aware- though he would rather be dragged facedown through hell than admit it- that he was head-over-heels in love with her. She kept running- scared to face an emotion other than her anger or fierce determination to defeat Naraku. So he waited. 

_My Vegetable love should grow_

_Vaster than empires, and more slow,_

_An hundred years should go to praise_

_Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze, _

_Two hundred to adore each breast, _

_But thirty thousand to the rest. _

_An age at least to every part, _

_And the last age should show your heart._

_For, lady, you deserve this state, _

_Nor would I love at a lower rate._

            He loved her, so he let her run. But with each passing day his fate began to weigh upon him more. And with each passing day her continuous flight became more frustrating. 

_    But at my back I always hear_

_Time's winged chariot hurrying near. _

_And yonder all before us lie_

_Deserts of vast eternity. _

            It pressed on him, harrying him. Death was still there, always just a step behind him. And he couldn't help but feel that no matter how hard he beat it back with his actions, it was still a loosing battle. 

_My beauty shall no more be found, _

_Nor in my marble vault shall sound_

_Thy echoing song; Then whom shall try_

_That long preserved virginity, _

_And your quaint honor turn to dust_

_And into ashes all my lust._

_The grave's a fine and private place_

_But none, I think do there embrace._

            Couldn't she see that he was dying? That if her flight continued it would all be for naught? He would be dead, and she would eventually marry (assuming she survived the fight with Naraku) a farmer, warrior, or maybe even a king. It didn't matter to Miroku, because that man would not be him. The thought of her in the arms of her future husband mane his stomach clench in a pain that he did not wish to examine. Perhaps it was tonight's events that were leading him down this path of masochistic introspection. 

            They had needed a place to stay for the night, so true to form, Miroku had chosen the best inn in the village and informed the owner that " a dark cloud hovered over" it. Behind the owners back Inu-Yasha keh'd and rolled his eyes at the old scam. Kagome-sama and Sango were discussing the benefits of having indoor hot springs. Shippou and Kiara were playing together. 

            They had just sat down for a hot dinner, and were discussing how pathetic the youkai they had fought that morning had been. Kagome-sama laughed at a particularly funny memory, lighting up the small room with her happiness. Even Inu-Yasha seemed to be cheered by it slightly. 

            That was when the innkeeper's son had come in. Miroku had known that the innkeeper had a son, had in fact chosen the inn despite that fact. It should have come as no surprise that, upon seeing that Kagome-sama was quite obviously claimed, the young man's attentions should turn to Sango. It didn't not really any way. Sango was, after all, a beautiful woman. 

            What came as a surprise was that Sango did not rebuff the boy's attentions. As she flirted back, Miroku felt that familiar pain in his gut twist, and twist, and twist. It continued to build until he finally snapped, loosing his ever-present charming mask, and he said something unforgivably rude. Everyone turned to him with a look of shock painted upon their features. He didn't even remember what it was that he had said. All that remained emblazoned upon his mind was the look of shock on Sango's face, one that was quickly replaced by anger. 

            She stormed over, grabbed him by the ear, and dragged him into a private room.

            "Why?" she asked, her voice breaking.

_    Now therefore, while youthful hue_

_Sits on thy sin like morning glew,_

_And while thy willing soul transpires_

_At every pore with instant fires_

_Now let us sport while we may_

_And now, like amorous birds of prey, _

_Rather at once our time devour_

_Than languish in his slow-chapped power._

            "Why do you act so jealous?" she pleaded as if her very heart hung upon the answer. 

            That was all it took. One innocent question was all it took for what he had been holding his tongue against for what seemed like an age to slip.

            The words just pooped out of his mouth, without his will, without his consent: "I love you with more passion and honesty than I ever could have dreamed to wish for … and… it's destroying me. Each time I look in your eyes, it tears me limb from limb leaving nothing but the dismal pieces of my broken heart." Each word seemed torn from him forcibly- as if it _were_ killing him. "I live each day in fear that you will see through the charade of lechery and see love instead of lust-because I love you so much that the thought of you being with me, someone who will only bring you more pain, is preposterous, but the thought of you being with someone else is like some sort of heinous crime against nature." He paused, closed his eyes taking a deep breath, then let it out in a great sigh, " And that, Sango, is why I am jealous."

            Neither of them could believe he had just said that. It lay between them like an open sore. Too new and tender to be touched, to painful to leave alone. "Miroku-sama…"

            Miroku took one of her hands and lifted it to his cheek. He turned his face into it, planting a light, chaste kiss upon the palm. "Sango…I'm…"

            She cut off his apology by kissing him. A kiss that contained all of the passion and longing that had build up between them.

_Let us roll all our strength and all_

_Our sweetness up into one ball_

_And tear our pleasures with rough strife_

_Through the iron gates of life. _

*Grope*

"Grrrrrrr…."

*WHAM*

*Owari

A/N: Thank you for reading. This was my first ever _finished_ fic. I hope it wasn't too bad. Please R&R. Thank you. Btw, in my next fic I have _big _plans for Fluffy-chan. 


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